


Speak Cat

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Millicent's Pets [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Warning for emetophobics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Millicent's pets do not speak Cat very well. One of them does try, however.





	

Something is wrong.

Something is very wrong.

Millicent doesn’t like to let her pets see her as weak. If she does, they will lose their confidence. It is important that she maintains a steady paw on her demesne, and retains her regal mantle. Both her precious little boys are highly-strung and prone to mewling like kittens when emotional (which is to say: often), and she needs them to tend to their own needs, first.

Not that they do much for themselves. They groom one another semi-adequately (she assists), they feed themselves with caught food (and she would hunt for herself, but that is the one missing thing in her domain: prey), and they don and remove their fur-simulations. She attempts to shed more on them to make it feel more natural for them, and also to remind them that they are hers. 

But she doesn’t have the ability to get it through their overgrown-kitten skulls what they need to do for themselves. If she could train them better, she would. 

And now that she feels… _wrong…_ she worries they will start to screech again. 

Ginger-pet keeps reaching for her, but she bends her spine out of the way and skulks further off. His weirdly spindly paws keep trying to dislodge her from her hiding places, until she hisses her anger at him (he hasn’t needed that in many cycles), and then slides behind the shoes in the wardrobe.

It smells of old feet in here, and it is both comforting and revolting. Her stomach feels queasy, and it isn’t the fish she ate. Millicent shudders in the dark, her eyes adjusting to the gloam and her tail tucked about herself defensively.

Outside, Ginger-pet’s voice grows frantic, and she can sense the discomfort in him. She doesn’t have the energy to meow him back into submission, or to knead him calm. He will get his reassurance when she feels better, which… 

Nope. Not yet. Her ears flatten in distress she doesn’t want them to see.

Black-pet comes closer, then. She doesn’t want to have to slice through the top layers of his bald skin to warn him, but she’s prepared to do so if it’s the only way to escape for half an hour. Don’t they understand that Mummy needs some time alone?

Black-pet opens the doors, but doesn’t push his paws in. There’s worry on his bare face, but he keeps a respectful distance. She flexes her claws in warning, her fur standing up.

 _Help. Help you_.

It’s strange, a thought in her head. An emotion, more than anything else. These tall kittens communicate in inefficient and counter-productive ways: nothing like the clarity of a real Cat. But she gets flickers of his emotions as if he’s _trying_ to speak Cat.

Black-pet drops down to lie on his back. His paws rest on his belly in a submissive gesture. Either he wants to play (she’s not in the mood), or he’s trying to communicate his rightful place as her minion. Beloved pet. Same thing.

Millicent does not want to come out. She mreowls her displeasure, and slashes her tail through the air.

Black-pet thinks _help_ some more. Help, and _love_. Love like she feels for… well. Both of them now. They’re both her charges, useless as they are. But he should **not** be the one offering help.

Ginger-pet yabbers on some more. Black-pet hisses at him.

More waves of reassurance, and she wonders if he’s finally learned the real language? Interesting. She carefully walks out, gingerly moving her limbs. 

Ginger-pet lies down next to his companion-animal. Good. She warily eyes him, then goes to Black-pet, who has been less grabby. She does not feel much like being grabbed, and she picks her way onto his chest by degrees. 

His paw lifts, and she stiffens. She stays stiff to communicate that he needs to be _careful_ with Mummy, and then slowly settles as the grooming remains very, very light. She still feels nauseous and weak, and a little trembly. The heat under her belly is soothing, until…

Millicent darts off in a rush, finding the first thing that’s suitable. 

Black-pet doesn’t need his eye-covering now. She hurls inside the mask, then sits to clean herself fastidiously.

She’s feeling better already.

Her pets screech, but they’ll get over it.


End file.
